Retirement
by Kaerith
Summary: What happens when a Turk retires? Deathfic.


**Retirement**

Tseng was still getting things ready when heard a knock on the door to his apartment. "Open," he called. He knew who it was. Even if he didn't, it wasn't like many people had access to this floor of the ShinRa building.

"What's so important that I had to meet ya here, yo?"

Tseng smiled tightly and stood up. "Just a second." He looked around and noted that everything was in place. He walked through the bedroom into the front room where Reno was standing.

The red-headed Turk looked Tseng up and down and frowned. "What th' hell are you wearing, Boss?" Tseng's outfit was unusual- plain, loose, white pants and tunic. But the Wutaiian Turk ignored the question.

"I'm retiring. You are going to be taking the place as head of the Turks."

Reno was upset. He averted his eyes from Tseng, reached for a pack of cigs, and shook one out. "Mind?" He said belatedly, hand halfway to his mouth. Tseng shook his head. It didn't matter.

It was only after taking a couple shaky drags that Reno had the composure to demand answers.

"What the fuck, yo?"

Tseng hid a smile. Reno had a talent for condensing many important questions into one crude declaration. "I'm tired." He extended his hand toward Reno, and the redhead skeptically handed the lit cig over. He watched in disbelief as he saw Tseng smoke for the first time in their long acquaintance.

"Didn't know you smoked."

Tseng smirked humorlessly. "Only on special occasions." He took a few more hits then gave it back.

"Seriously, yo. Retiring?!"

Tseng nodded.

"What th' hell are you gonna do? Flip burgers? Sell life insurance?" They both snorted at the last suggestion.

"Turks don't retire, as such," Tseng admitted. "That's why I called you here."

"Huh?"

Tseng turned and waved for Reno to follow. The redhead stubbed out his cig on the glass coffee table and walked after his boss.

"Th' fuck is this?" He asked when they entered the bathroom. Plastic sheeting covered every non-slick surface.

Tseng's back was still facing him. "As my successor, there's something you need you to do." He turned, holding out one of his custom Magnums.

Reno's face went comically pale. "Yo?" He managed to croak out.

Tseng's face was expressionless as he explained. "The Turks have too many secrets. If I tried to run away, ShinRa would just order you to find and kill me. I thought this way would be easier."

Another word managed to tear its way out of Reno's throat. "Easier?"

"This way, you can be sure that I'm dead. You won't have to waste manpower hunting for me. And-" he indicated the room around them, "-clean up will be simple."

Reno's legs gave out and he landed on the tiled floor. "Boss…" Green eyes looked imploringly at Tseng. "I can't do this."

Tseng smirked. "Of course you can! You've killed scores of people." He knelt and forced the gun into the redhead's hands. "I've selected you as my replacement. I know what you are capable of and have seen your potential."

Reno stared down uncomprehendingly at the Magnum. He had been hoping that Tseng was inviting him to his apartment for a far different reason. He was such an idiot! Every day, for the last six months or so, he'd told himself that this was the day; the day when he'd finally hint that he was attracted to his boss.

He'd come here on a Saturday thinking that maybe he and Tseng would end up in bed, on the couch, or in the goddamn bathtub- Reno wasn't picky. Instead, he got ushered into the bathroom and told that he was expected to shoot Tseng dead!

"It's an order, Reno," his boss stated calmly. "Kill me." As if this was just another stupid hit on some rival company's pudgy and pasty exec.

Reno's head shot up at the demand. "You're only fucking forty-three, goddammit! Why the fuck do you want to die so bad, yo?!"

Tseng just leaned against a wall, crossed his arms, and sighed. "I've been in this business for over twenty-five years. I'm tired. I've gotten sick of it. I no longer sleep well, have high blood pressure, and the stress has given me hemorrhoids. There is no other way to for me to leave the Turks."

Reno dropped his face and shook his head. "I can't do it. I fuckin' like you too much."

A strong hand gripped his chin painfully, pulling his gaze back up to meet Tseng's. His brown eyes held no sympathy or kindness. "That is a weakness, Reno. You can't harbor such emotions and expect to stay employed and alive with the Turks. You either shoot me now or I shoot you tomorrow. You kill that weakness now, or you will be tossed out of the Turks. And, once you are thrown out, you-"

The bang was especially loud in the small room. Tseng's body made a heavy wet sound when it hit the plastic sheeting. Reno couldn't hear it.

He stood. Nudged the form with a toe. Bent to retrieve the access cards clipped to the pocket on the plain tunic.

"Fucker," he said mildly to Tseng's carcass. He left the room to call Rufus, the Turks, and the cleaning staff.

The gun was still warm in his hand.

He had killed two people with that single shot.

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Note: Decided to write about the unglamorous aspects of being a professional hitman/Turk. What happens when you get tired of the life? Your colleagues wouldn't just let you go with all the knowledge you have.

This is a double-death fic. Reno is (metaphorically) also killed when he shoots Tseng; he kills the "weakness" of feelings as well as much of his humanity. What remains of Reno isn't sad or angry- just resigned, distant, and professional.

Not a happy fic at all. Makes me sad.


End file.
